Like Father, Like Son
by lostsoul512
Summary: Because Renault Mograine is exactly like his father, except that he isn't like his father at all.


**A/N: Hey, all! To those of you that may be dads, then Happy Father's Day. And for those of you that aren't...well, maybe call and thank your own dad for being a better parent than most of the ones in WoW. I'm kidding, of course. Mostly. Kind of. Anyway, this is a really little drabble piece, but enjoy. Because, I mean, the alternative was writing about Arthas and Terenas, but I decided that was just a bad idea. - Skye xx**

 **...**

For as long as he could remember, Renault Mograine had been certain of one thing: his relationship with his father was fragile, something that could easily collapse if he so much as breathed in the wrong direction, or spoke out of turn, or attempted to break through the hardened and brooding shell of the great paladin hero.

Even still, there were some memories, faint and fleeting as they were, that he found himself clinging to long after they had passed. He had felt them fading more and more with each passing day, had felt the tendrils slipping through his fingers and getting lost in the haze of his hate. But as he stood before his father now, gripping onto his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white, those memories seemed violently vivid.

And now, with the heavy silence settling in around him, in that single second of hesitation, Renault could recall clearly one single moment in time that stood out above the rest. It was a memory he had held to for his entire life, one he seemed incapable of banishing even now, especially now, when he needed to be rid of it and the way it seemed to give him pause.

"Renault," Alexandros hissed, and the way he spoke that name was like a curse upon his lips, filled with some combination of loathing and disgust that made his son's stomach twist.

But Renault wasn't listening, or wouldn't listen, he wasn't sure which, and in his mind he was far away, lost in a distant memory of a life that could never be again.

He closed his eyes and let the memories take him.

...

Instead of the sickening sounds of the Ashbringer cutting down the waves of undead, the only sounds he could hear was that of his own heartbeat, and the fading sound of two wooden training swords crashing into each other.

A shaky laugh passed through the red haired boy's lips as he staggered back a little from the sheer force with which Alexandros had hit his fake weapon, just barely managing to catch his footing before he wound up sprawled out in the grass. "Good," Alexandros praised, a bright smile upon his own face. Renault smiled too, lapped up the praise like he was dying of thirst and it was the first drink of water he'd been offered in years. "Stay on your feet, boy. Once you're down, you're as good as dead."

Renault nodded eagerly, adjusted his footing and repositioned his hold on the flimsy sword. "Again," he urged, and his father was more than happy to comply. The young boy poured all of his energy and focus into his movements, each dodge and parry, teeth gritted together and eyes narrowed as he swung wildly.

With a loud crunch, Alexandros' wooden weapon snapped right in half. His wide, surprised gaze flickered between the splintered fragment and Renault, who stood before him now, a frenzied look on his face and his chest rising and falling with each gasping breath.

His father's face broke out into a wide grin. "Very good, Renault," he said, a hint of affection in his tone that the redhead clung to like the only light in all the darkness. With his free hand, he reached out to clasp his son on the shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. His gaze became more serious as he looked down at him. "You are so much like I was at your age," he said slowly. There seemed to be some unspoken weight in the words, settling itself onto Renault's shoulders. "You will make a fine paladin, boy, if you remember the things I have taught you."

"Honor, valor and righteousness," Renault replied instantly, giving a nod. "And," he added, tilting his head to the side, and offering up a sheepish grin, "a good weapon."

Alexandros laughed at that, moving his hand to ruffle his son's messy hair. "Precisely," he responded. "You will make me proud, son."

Renault opened his mouth, a gracious thank you on his lips, but before any sound could make it out, he was interrupted by a shrill voice, a loud cry of _daddydaddydaddy,_ and a moment later a small blonde child came barreling towards them. In an instant, Renault's features had rearranged into a scowl as his one moment of attention was stolen from him.

"Darion," Alexandros said, kneeling down just in time for the boy to launch himself into his father's arms. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

Darion shook his head, buried his face into his father's chest and gripped at the fabric of his shirt with small fingers. "I had another nightmare," he murmured, the words so muffled they were nearly inaudible.

Renault lingered for a moment longer, but it was clear that he had been forgotten now that his brother was here. He wasn't exactly surprised, but it didn't change the pang of hurt that echoed in his chest as he threw down his sword and stormed off. He didn't look back, and no one tried to make him stay.

...

"Renault," his father said again, and this time he heard it clearly, and it sounded razor sharp like a blade aiming straight for his heart. "I was wrong about you, boy."

 _Shut up,_ he growled, except that he was frozen, motionless, and no sound actually made it out. His grip on the sword tightened, his arms aching as he lifted it, adjusted his footing, readied himself to strike. In the back of his mind, he could see himself as a little boy, looking up at Alexandros with all the adoration in the world. Now, his narrowed eyes were only filled with hate.

And still, Alexandros held his stare, even if his own eyes were gleaming with regret. "You're nothing like me," he said, and just like that the one and only moment of happiness Renault could recall was stolen from him, ruined just like everything else in this wretched world. For so long he had held onto that single notion, that single idea that he could be like his father. It had driven him on, had given him strength, had guided him when he didn't know which way to go.

But now he was not a naive and foolish boy. Now he knew better.

His fingers twitched around the hilt. He sucked in a deep breath, but still felt as though all the air had escaped from his lungs. "I don't want to be like you," he whispered. Renault blinked away the last remnants of the fading memory, shoved it aside somewhere it couldn't hurt him anymore, and then plunged his sword right into his father's back.


End file.
